Page 60 of Harbinger

“It was decorated when one of the princesses visited decades ago.” Her brow furrows like she’s trying to remember which one as she starts tidying the already neat room. “We used to host guests all the time. Now we only entertain on Twelvetide, but I try to keep it up. Just in case.”

“In case Bishop shows up with a woman?” I ask, gliding my hands down one of the bed’s smooth posters.

“In case someone needs it.” She tugs at a corner of the duvet that’s wrinkled. “It’s been quiet since the tragedy.”

“Oh?” I try to sound casual, even though Lenora keeps piquing my curiosity.

But she forces a smile. “I wouldn’t have dreamed of Bishop showing up with a lady. I suppose anything can happen.”

Indeed.

“There’s a view of the gardens.” She fluffs one of the many pillows on the bed.

I wander to the window and pull the curtain aside for a better look. There’s enough light left to see the garden is a riot of tangled branches and dead leaves. Vines have seized control, creeping across the path and winding around a moss-covered fountain.

“It’s a little wild.” Lenora moves beside me, sighing. “No one’s tended it in a spell. My knees don’t appreciate all the stooping.”

“There’s no gardener, either?” An estate this size with the wealth of Order Marius should have more than one.

“Bishop prefers his privacy.”

The lack of household staff doesn’t make sense, unless my family isn’t the only patron line struggling. It’s hard to imagine the king wouldn’t reward Marius better for their service. Then again, he’s ignored our troubles for years.

“And Lord Marius is gone half the time. He’s always traipsing to some far corner of the world for Stars-know-what reason.” Lenora shakes her head like she can’t fathom the idea of travel. She plants her hands on her hips and surveys the room for anything she’s missed. “I’ll bring up some fresh clothing. There’s paper in the desk in case you want to write home.” She pauses. “Will you be staying long?”

I bite my lip. “I’m not sure.”

She nods as if that’s answer enough. “If you need anything, just ring,” she says, pointing to the old-fashioned bell cord by the fireplace. “I’ll find what I can for you to wear and leave it in the wardrobe. I’m afraid it will be out of fashion. You’ll have to go into Wolf’s Keep for the rest.”

“Wolf’s Keep?” Just the name sends a shiver down my spine.

“The village.” She nods toward the bathing chamber, where the tub is still filling up. “Enjoy your bath. I’ll leave those clothes for you.”

But after she’s gone, I rest my forehead against the window, the glass fogging under my breath. The garden is beautiful in a ruined sort of way, clinging to life even in the midst of so much death.

This place is full of secrets. I can feel them pressing in, crowding out the silence. But mostly, the house feels lonely, as if even the walls would trade their ghosts for company. I thought Bishop had a secret before. Now I’m sure. I don’t know why, but I’m certain that secret is somehow connected to why he’s protecting me. This is where he’s hiding it, and I’m going to find out what it is.

My life depends on it.

THIRTEEN

Astorm wakes me at midnight, rattling the windowpanes and sending flashes of light skittering across the ceiling. Between the wind and rain pelting the house, sleep feels impossible. I pull the quilt to my chin and lie there, willing myself back to blissful unconsciousness, but every roll of thunder drives me further from it. Eventually, I give up and shove the covers aside. The fire in the room’s hearth has dwindled to embers, and I grab a crocheted shawl from my stack of new clothes, shivering.

The hallway outside my room is even colder, the old stone floors like ice under the thin soles of my borrowed slippers. I listen for any sign someone else is awake, but there’s nothing except the howling wind.

My fingers trail the wooden banisters as I tiptoe down the stairs, my eyes never leaving the head of a horned wolf mounted above the landing.

Miradores feels like a labyrinth in the dark. Each wrong turn leads to some cold, windowless passage and a dead end or down a narrow staircase that I swear doubles back out of spite. Finally, I find my way to the great room.

The kitchen beyond the swinging door is empty, but there’s a candle stub burning in a lantern, wax puddled around its base. It’s just enough light to allow me to search for something to eat. I settle on a heel of bread and a wedge of pale cheese, afraid to upend Lenora’s breakfast plans. I nibble at them, watching as lightning splits the sky and casts monstrous shadows in the overgrown garden.

Another flash illuminates the grounds, and for a split second, I see two figures. My heart jumps into my throat, and I back away, nearly dropping the last bit of cheese. I sink into a shadowy nook, eyes never leaving the window as I wait for another lightning strike. I’m not sure I want to know who—or what—is out there. But when the next one comes, the garden is empty.

Now I’m seeing things. Because this week couldn’t get any better.

The back door creaks open.

“… not as simple as you think,” Bishop says, shaking rain from his hair.